


the healing that happens in dive bars

by bokutoma



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Female My Unit | Byleth, Gen, Growing Up, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Wingman Claude von Riegan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutoma/pseuds/bokutoma
Summary: claude and byleth make a great team
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	the healing that happens in dive bars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NowYoCandysGone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowYoCandysGone/gifts).



> this is a commission for bee! thanks so much

Byleth may not have been spoiled for choice when it came to having people to rely on, but she had more than enough to be satisfied. Her father was reliable, a soft place to land on when things got rough even if he couldn't always be around (hazards of being a freelancer, especially when said freelance work included anything and everything), and Alois, an old family friend, was like a mix between a doting uncle and a protective big brother. She'd never managed to be quite as expressive as her family, but they loved her dearly all the same, and she couldn't complain.

By virtue of having moved around often as a kid, she had never had many people she could consider _friends_ , only acquaintances gone by, school friends she would just as soon duck away from than make small talk with. Once the novelty of a new student had worn off, classmates would realize that Byleth was quiet and rather reticent, odd in ways that weren't cool so much as strange. It hadn't bothered her much, but that had left her with only the vestiges of meaningful connection from those first eighteen years of her life.

College had started off marginally better: here, everyone was _some_ sort of odd, and there were quiet alliances to be found in what seemed like every corner. Someone named Linhardt had been excellent for snagging the quietest corners of the library, and all he asked in return was either complete and total silence as he slept, or a responsive backboard to bounce questions and theories off of on those rare days when he awake and nearly manic in his desire to work. A girl named Bernadetta had been a reliable group project partner as long as no one looked at her directly or spoke aloud, and a guy named Felix had been great if you wanted to blow off steam - as long as it was a fight, he was down for it, and he had enough rules and spare gear that no one had ever been in any real danger.

So yes, there had been quite a number of people that Byleth had known on some level, and that had known her in return. It had been something close to nice, having that support system, if a bit unnerving. She'd been used to having very few people other than herself to even remotely rely on in a real way, and now, others had felt comfortable enough in their friendship to acknowledge her in passing, to make plans with.

Then she had gotten sick.

Even now, she couldn't quite say what it had been that had gripped her for those five months and change. Recurring, long-lasting pneumonia was the working medical theory, as far as she knew, but mostly, she just chalked it up to a medical mystery that would never truly be solved and was content to leave it there. All that could definitively have been said was that she'd had a cold that had deteriorated very quickly, fluid filling her lungs until she had coughed up half a lung's worth of phlegm and promptly passed out in the middle of group work with Bernadetta.

For that first month, she'd been in and out of the hospital and the family practitioner's enough that they'd become like additional homes. Furiously, she'd worked to keep up with her studies, but after two more collapses, she'd had to withdraw on medical grounds. Her father had promised that they'd work something out so she could still get her degree, but at the moment, it had felt like a concession she'd been unwilling to give. Bitterly, she'd wished she could retroactively give up those tentative friendships that had quickly eroded in the face of this (not their fault, she'd known even then, considering that they had no way of knowing what had happened, but that hadn't helped) and keep her health in return.

It hadn't mattered. Obviously, there had been nothing for her to do but recover.

One night, somewhere around the halfway point, she had been tired of the monotony of her routine; unsurprising, as it had become a revolving door of the same few doctors, practically in sequential order by this point. It had still been cold outside, the dying remnants of winter clinging on even into the proper beginnings of spring. Byleth had known how unwise it would be to go out, but she hadn't been able to stop herself, compromising by bundling up and sneaking out of the house with more dexterity than she'd known she'd possessed, having never had cause to do this before.

Almost without thought, she had traced a more than familiar path, walking for nearly half an hour before she reached the outskirts of what had, until recently, served as practically a second home to her.

Campus.

The feeling of it in the night hadn't nearly touched the bustle of daytime, but before now, she hadn't seen it since she had had to officially depart, and the feeling had been so overwhelmingly bittersweet as to be actually nausea-inducing, and she had had to fight back a gag. _Weakness_ , said a part of her mind that sounded like Felix, despite never having experienced such overt cruelty from him.

Perhaps that had been why she had privately agreed with this.

Up until that point, the night had been still, near-silent, and if Byleth had felt alone before, then that had only been exacerbated by the picturesque placidity of the darkness.

Then, however, it had been broken by soft footsteps, almost as though their cause had purposefully been trying to alert her to their presence. She'd turned sluggishly, not eager to see whoever it would be, only to be struck by a fairly familiar face.

Claude von Riegan, a trust fund kid that had seemed more comfortable among the so-called riffraff and had generally been ignored by others of his supposed social and monetary status, save one or two others. Byleth had never known him personally, but they'd shared a class or two, and he had always seemed magnetic.

Magnetic had not been what she had wanted.

Still, he had sat by her, and whether it had been through that nostalgic sickness or his own charisma, she had ended up spilling her guts to him with as much relish as a penitent sinner. Through some miracle, he had done the same in turn, outlining a sordid family history that any soap opera would have envied. At the time, it hadn't even mattered whether he'd been telling the truth, though. Byleth had just been glad for the commiseration and the companionship.

When she had gone home, phone numbers exchanged, she had thought that that would be the end of that, and she'd never hear from Claude von Riegan again.

Again, she had been wrong.

The next night, he had texted her, wanting to continue their conversation without the risk of her getting any sicker. Had it been sad that that sort of consideration had warmed her to her core?

Over the next month, they had texted and called with more regularity than she had ever even had with Alois, who had been and would probably always be prone to calling every few days to exchange pleasantries and lay down another one of his atrocious jokes. She'd caved to Jeralt's inevitable questioning fairly easily, having never had the motive or opportunity to hide these sorts of things from him before, and after that initial, heady trial period, Claude had been allowed inside the Eisner household.

"Not an honor to be taken lightly," Jeralt had said, only half-joking, the first time Claude had stepped over the threshold. He had looked mildly disapproving of her friend's designer sweats, but that had mostly been from the standpoint that they'd been designer at all, considering that he'd been wearing a fraying pair of sweatpants himself.

"Obviously," Claude had said, and like that, he'd been a part of the family.

He'd been there when she'd fully recovered, and he'd helped her when, in a fit of pique, she'd decided to dye her hair a pale green that would have probably been atrociously patchy had he not been there. Being a year younger and in the same major as her, he'd been there when she'd gotten back into school, helping her study for things she could almost recall. He'd even, for some strange reason, been in the stall next to her when they'd drank double their combined weight in cheap beer after graduation, but one had to learn to accept those weird circumstances with him.

All of that, really, was just to say that Byleth Eisner had known Claude von Riegan for a very long time, and never once had they ever had a romantic or sexual attraction for each other. That being true, it made it hard for her to believe that she had heard him correctly.

"What?" she half-shouted over the din of the shitty dive bar they had landed at.

"Let's make out!" he yelled back, shameless as ever. Sometimes she hated him for that, like when she had caught him sucking dick in the art and archaeology library and promptly had to wash her eyes out. Most of the time, though, it was what made him so fun to be around, considering how unlike her own introverted self he was.

Currently, though, she was leaning toward the former. "What the fuck?"

He pulled a face, as though he was just now understanding what she had thought. "Oh, _gross_ , not with you. I just wanna bag a nice night and wanna see if I can grab you one too. Who knows, maybe I can see what you pull."

She gagged at that, though this was exaggerated now that she knew what he meant. "You're not going to see me pull _anything_ , Riegan."

He flashed an equally overdone pout before knocking back the rest of what Byleth knew to be an obscenely fruity drink. "Bummer. Now, jester, dance for me, find me some ass!"

More than a little tipsy considering that it was only eleven, she stuck her tongue out and examined her options. Tall, dark, and twinky was out, considering he didn't look like he could top for shit and Claude was the most unrepentant bottom she'd ever had the misfortune of knowing. Mr. Blonde and Charming was also a no; he looked too much like an old classmate of theirs, and Byleth had no interest in even coming close to a repeat of the two week Golden Girls marathon they'd done after that whole thing went south.

The redhead that was currently playing the world's shittiest game of pool looked promising, though, not least because Claude was _also_ bad at pool. Plus, he was the kind of beautiful that Byleth hated and Claude loved never seeing again. He was aggressively flirting with a female bystander, but that wasn't a problem. She could call his bluff from a mile off, and her tits were more attention-grabbing anyway.

"That one?" she asked, pointing at him rather conspicuously.

Claude whistled lowly and a grin spread across his face. "You don't take the easy way out, do you, Eisner?"

"I'm not _that_ bad of a friend."

"Tell you what, grab him and the rest of your drinks are on me."

What more motivation did she need? Downing the dregs of a subpar bottle, she slipped from her barstool and weaved deftly through the small clusters of patrons just in time to see the redhead's spectacular loss.

"Good game," she said dryly, casually slipping in front of the girl he had been flirting with.

Redhead snorted, and as he faced her, the light illuminated him better and Byleth realized she knew him, at least by proxy. Sylvain Gautier, best friend of her old pre-illness sparring partner and notorious bed-hopper. _Perfect_. By the look of dawning recognition on his face, he seemed to at least vaguely remember her as well.

"So do you blow off steam like Felix, or do you have a different method?" she asked, summoning all the casual confidence that Claude had imbued her with by proxy over the years. She could see him from the corner of her eye, the bastard, hand propping up his chin as he watched blatantly.

"Byleth, wasn't it?" When she nodded in response, he smirked, all loose-limbed casual flair. Something about that made her want to punch his teeth in. "Why, you have a suggestion?"

She fought down the urge to gag in much the same way she had gagged at Claude, only this time with all seriousness. "Sorry, but you're not my type. You're _his_ , though."

He followed her outstretched finger to see Claude, grinning widely and not self-conscious in the least. He waved, and Byleth felt a wave of affection for him, her always brave best friend.

"He's cute," Sylvain admitted. "But why isn't he talking to me?"

Here it was: the make or break moment Claude talked about when he and Hilda would gossip together while dragging Byleth to a pedicure or something equally inane. "We're pulling for each other tonight."

Hopefully, Sylvain still matched all of Felix's old complaints. Otherwise, this was about to be supremely awkward.

Not that it hadn't been already, but most things Claude talked her into tended to be at one point or another.

Fortunately, Sylvain started howling with laughter (the good kind, the one that _wasn't_ incredulous, thank someone's lucky stars), bending over double in a half-assed attempt at catching his breath. He lost some of the too-beautiful edges to him when he snorted, and she decided that he was a little bit of her type after all.

Finally, he hiccuped to a stop and peered up at her as he straightened. "Killer game," he said, lifting his hand for a high five.

She'd happily admit that she deserved one.

"You're going to have to wait while he reciprocates, you know," she said even as they picked their way back over to Claude. "I'm pretty sure he thought I was gonna fuck this up, so he wanted to watch."

"That's cool," Sylvain replied, and she might have been weirded out by how chill he was being if she didn't have some background, angrily huffed out as she and Felix had beaten the mutual shit out of each other. "There'll be a whole lot of reciprocation later."

"I'm going to drown you in piss beer if you don't retract that right the fuck now."

" _Oh_ , so that's why you and Felix got along."

Claude didn't do much more than wink and blow Sylvain a kiss before slipping off, but the latter didn't seem to mind, and Byleth had the former's wallet, so she ordered them both drinks. Sylvain seemed even happier after that, sucking down a godawful craft beer like he was looking for a prize at the bottom.

"Have you known him long?" Sylvain asked as they watched Claude approach a tall, green-haired man who could punch Byleth in the face and get nothing more than gratitude in response. Damn, he was good. "Also, what's his name? I feel like I should have asked that earlier."

Despite herself, Byleth laughed. "It's Claude," she said, half-watching, as Claude used his silver tongue with the kind of skill car salesmen, wished they had. "And we're college friends."

"He means a lot to you, huh?" She snapped her head up, trying to assess whether she had assumed the lilt to his voice, but Sylvain just looked understanding. "Not in any romantic sense, I mean. You guys just seem close."

Unbidden, a soft smile spread across Byleth's face, only exacerbated by watching Claude gesture wildly. "Yeah. He might be a stupid asshole, but he's my stupid asshole, you know?"

"I get it." Weirdly enough, Byleth believed him.

With what had to be half-drunken looseness, she squinted up at Sylvain and said, "Screw his brains out, alright? He deserves it."

Sylvain's answering squawk of laughter was enough to startle the man that had returned with Claude. Up close, he was even more handsome, and Byleth knew she was either going to owe her best friend for life or have to rob him for any remaining chocolate stashes after this was over.

"Whatever she said, I promise she's never actually that funny," Claude said by way of inserting himself into the conversation. Byleth stuck her tongue out as he gestured to the brunette, and he favored her with a wink in return. "Regardless, I have the honor of introducing your lovely companion for the night, or at least until he's done with you, Mr. Seteth."

Okay, regardless of what happened, Byleth definitely owed Claude for life.

And as they parted ways at closing time, Claude caught her hand for the briefest of moments and squeezed. For the first time in a long while, Byleth was genuinely, blissfully happy.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @kingblaiddyd


End file.
